Dawes & Carlise
by OliveOilMed
Summary: Companion story to The Deer Woman: Corina Payton and her father are recruiters for the Bell Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry. When they arrive at an Indian boarding school, they learn all about what can happen behind closed doors when no one looks.
1. Chapter 1 'Boarding School'

**Chapter 1**  
**Boarding Schools**

Corina Payton tailed behind her father's footsteps as they made their way down the long hallway. A young lady, barely sixteen, Corina considered herself very lucky to be able to accompany her father on his duties as a recruiter for the Bell Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry where she herself would return to as a pupil this autumn. Her father, Connor Payton, was more than happy to bring his daughter along, for as a younger witch, she often had better luck relating to the potential students than her father did. One of the main issues that Mr. Payton had to deal with was speaking to parents who, up until meeting the father and daughter, had no idea that magic or the Wizarding world existed.

As a Muggle-born himself, Corina's father excelled at his work. In fact, it was he who was responsible for a lot of the reforms that the Bell Academy had made in the acceptance of children from Muggle families. It was her father who made sure that the Bell Academy sent these children their letter _two_ years before they were actually old enough to begin attending.

Yes, Corina was very proud of her visionary father. And she felt very honored that she was able to assist him in his work. She was especially excited to accompany her father on this particular excursion.

"This way, please," the boarding school matron called out over her shoulder, leading them up a flight of narrow stairs.

Corina could hardly contain her excitement when she learned where they would be going today; an actual Indian boarding school! She had never seen a real Indian, except for in photographs and in books, and she most certainly never imagined she would ever be attending school with one. It had never really occurred to Corina whether or not Indian Wizarding children attended school at all. She supposed there might have been a few attending at Hardscrabble Creek out in the west, but as far as she knew, most Indian children stayed and learned magic within their tribes and with their families. It kept their own cultural traditions very much alive, but it did very little in preparing them for any sort of contact with white wizards.

Now, however, times were different. The United States government had now taken a far more active role in overseeing the education of Indian children; to the point where they were all taken away and placed in boarding schools far from their native homes. Not even Wizarding children were exempt from these laws and the Department of Magic cared little about what happened to these children…at least until they were old enough to begin attending school. Oddly enough, though, this sort of arrangement worked out very well for recruiters such as Mr. Payton. Now that he no longer had to explain why the Bell Academy existed to the children's ignorant parents, all he had to do was go to the Indian schools themselves—where the children would be gathered in bunches instead of spread all over the wilderness—and convince whoever ran them that it would be in _certain_ children's best interest to transfer to the Bell Academy. According to other recruiters he had spoken to, it wasn't a very difficult task. As long as the Indian children were attending lessons _somewhere_, the former schools, and the United States government, didn't care _where_ they were doing it.

Actually arriving at the school in and of itself had been a chore. They had travelled the journey from Georgia to Pennsylvania by Floo, but that was where Wizarding methods of transportation had come to an end. From there, Mr. Payton and his daughter had had to hire a carriage driver to take them the remaining hundred miles to the Indian School. It had certainly been exciting at first; it was Corina's first time taking Muggle transportation for anything. However, the novelty of it wore off quite quickly, after the third time the carriage wheel hit a trench and the Paytons hit their heads against the roof.

But at long last, they finally arrived at the expansive grounds of the Indian school, disguised in their Muggle clothing, each of the Paytons taking turns pulling at their tight-fitting, uncomfortable material. It actually became something of a game to fidget with their clothes without their guide noticing.

"The primary classrooms are down this way," the matron said, leading them further into the maze of hallways and staircases.

As they walked further into the halls of the Indian boarding school, Corina couldn't help but be overcome with a strange feeling. Granted, Corina had never seen a Muggle school before, but she was certain that they were supposed to be like this. The whitewashed walls were completely bare, aside from boldly written rules on sheets of yellowing paper; rules that made it seem as though the children here were enlisted in the military as opposed to boarding school. Corina had yet to see any children since she had arrived at the school. In the entryway, there had been two older girls on their hands and knees scrubbing the floors, but she couldn't be certain whether these girls were students or just maids, especially since she was unable to see their faces and they were dressed in the typical 'help's' dress of dark dresses and white aprons.

The school had a scoured and sanitized appearance; the wood floors gleamed as though they were scrubbed daily. Then, remembering the young women in the entryway, Corina thought to herself that they probably were. Nothing about this building offered the feel that it was home to _any_ children. Corina had to keep reminding herself that this was indeed a school.

Suddenly, the school matron stopped in front of one of the doors lining the hallway, though there was nothing about it that seemed any different than the dozens of others they had already passed. "Ah, yes. Here are our nine-year-olds."

A small barred window in the upper half of the door peered into the classroom. Inside the room, at rows of desks sat twenty or so little Indian children; boys on the left, girls on the right. The boys sat dressed in cottons shirts and trousers; poor quality, but no different than a person might see a white boy wearing. The girls wore ugly dresses of shapeless white cotton, and their hair was chopped short, though large white bows in their hair attempted to dress up the hack job that had been performed on their thick locks. They were all staring up at a stern woman pacing across the front of the classroom, a wooden pointer being waved about in her hand.

"Would you like to sit in on the class?" the matron offered, taking out a ring of keys. "You and your daughter may sit in the corner if you promise to do you observations quietly."

Corina's father nodded enthusiastically, and Corina took a tighter grip on the official school documents she was carrying for him. As the matron turned the key in the lock, Corina found herself becoming more confused and even more suspicious. Why on earth would a classroom door be locked?

Once they actually entered the classroom, Corina's unsettled feelings only grew. In many ways, the room she stood in resembled any other primary schoolroom. There was a chalkboard with the letters of the alphabet posted above it. The sparse walls were decorated with a few photographs of American presidents and framed writings, but otherwise bare. No childish drawings, no color, nothing remotely joyful whatsoever. She couldn't imagine why anyone would create this sort of environment to educate children.

The woman teaching the class was ugly. Corina knew that was a horrible thing to think about someone, but she could honestly think of no other words to describe her. She had a thin face, with her cheek bones protruding out at sharp angles. Deep lines creased alongside her mouth, eyes, and at her brow in the manner of someone who had the misfortune of aging far too quickly. Her hair was tied up in a highly unattractive bun, and her dress of burgundy muslin just hung on her wiry frame, held in place by the buttons that went all the way up to her throat. Every so often, she would take the hickory pointer in her hand and smack it against the surface of one of the desks, if for no other reason than she seemed to feel like it.

Corina couldn't help but feel an immense dislike for this woman, and she didn't even know her and had no clues as to her character.

"Now," the woman said as she began patrolling down the aisles of desks, "who can tell me the name of the author of the Declaration of Independence, who later became the third president of the United States?"

"Paul," she snapped turned her attention down towards one of the boys, "why don't you tell us?"

The poor boy stared down at the surface of his desk and stammered in the matter of a student who had no idea what the correct answer was, but was stalling for time so they would not have to admit it. This sort of tactic, however, was met by the teacher bringing hickory stick down hard against the surface of the desk. Every student in the room jumped, leading Corina to suspect that the stick was not just used to hit the desks.

"The answer, Paul Crooked Walk!"

"I don't know!" the boy confessed, nearly on the verge of tears.

The teacher made a huffing sound under her breath and the hickory stick went back to her side. "Alright, then," she replied, shifting her attention over to the girls. "Martha, maybe you can tell us."

As the class of children sat at newfound attention, Corina found herself paying special attention to the girls in the class. On the surface, one could never really tell a Muggle child from a magical one, especially when they were all dressed exactly alike. No matter how hard Corina stared and squinted her eyes, she could not pick out anyone special among the group of them.

"Which one is her, Father?" Corina asked in as hushed a tone as she could manage.

Unsure, Corina's father leaned in and whispered to the matron, "Which one of these children is Annie?" Scanning across the brown faces, the school matron finally pointed out one of the young girls among the dozens of children.

Annie sat in the front row, in the last aisle, right up against the window. In many ways, she was no different from the other dozen girls around her. Her hair was shorn short, she wore the same shapeless frock, but she did seem somehow more agitated than the rest of her classmates. While all the other children held themselves at a sort of bored, yet frightened attention, Annie's eyes darted all around the room, keeping aware of everything that was happening at every moment. Her fingers tapped anxiously against the surface of her desk. In general, the little girl was highly agitated, far too much so to be natural for a child as young as she.

The school matron approached the teacher and whispered in her ear, the woman's lecture trailing off as she began to pay attention to the words being murmured into her ear. The Indian children who had been only paying passive attention to the class' visitors up until now leaned over the surface of their desks in curiosity. Even the jittery little Annie Two Moons finally seemed to be drawn in by the exchange.

"Children, please take out your pens and work on your compositions," the teacher instructed before moving to the front of the classroom to join the small gathering of white people.

The class of children reached into their desks, extracting fountain pens and composition books, though they all seemed to keep at least one eye on their teacher, who, in turn, kept one eye on them.

"Mrs. Caulden, what is the meaning of this?" she hissed under her breath so that her students wouldn't hear her.

"Miss Deem," the school matron, Mrs. Caulden, whispered, still trying to keep her tone somewhat lighter than the younger woman in front of her, "we have some visitors here to speak with one of your students."

The teacher, Miss Deem, raised an eyebrow and stared at the schools two visitors. "You don't say?"

"Yes," Corina's father proceeded to introduce himself. "My name is Conner Payton. I'm here to speak with one of your students, Annie Two-Moons."

As though the girl had heard her name, even though it had only been a whisper, her head snapped up to stare at Corina and her father. Her gaze was intense, as though the black eyes behind them were somehow older than their nine-year-old owner.

"Why," Miss Deem sneered, "on earth would you want to do _that_?"

"Mr. Payton and his daughter are representatives from their school in Georgia. The Bell Academy, wasn't it?"

Corina and her father both nodded in unison. "And they were hoping that they might be able recruit her for their school. If all goes well, Annie will be able to begin attending in less than two years.

"They were just hoping that they might be able to speak with her a bit before they made their decision." The matron's eyes were now drifting back over to the seated children. _What sort of child could be so horrid that they could not be trusted to their own devices for one minute?_ Corina found herself thinking.

"How long will you be keeping her for?" Miss Deem asked impatiently as she too glanced back over her shoulder at the students scribbling away at their desks.

"I don't know," Corina's father replied testily. "It will be for however long we need her."

Still, the hard-faced teacher did nothing to call Annie over. "The children will be leaving for their vocational exercises in less than fifteen minutes."

Corina suddenly remembered the girls she had seen scrubbing the floors in the entryway, and she could only imagine what sort of unpleasant activities 'vocational exercises' might entail.

"Oh, I'm sure that missing the first few minutes of her exercises will not prove terribly detrimental," Corina's father said, trying to keep his tone light.

And still, nothing was done on this Miss Deem's part.

"Our children are kept on a very strict schedule," the teacher continued to argue. "As an educator yourself, you much surely understand how important structure is for developing minds…and we especially have our work cut out for us here, trying to instill strong moral character into our pupils."

Corina's father inhaled deeply and tapped his fingers against his forearms. It was clear to Corina that her father was running out of patience.

"With all due respect, Miss Deem," he said coldly. "I _am_ here in the hopes that Miss Two-Moons might show an interest in attending the academy I am employed by. Excuse me if I care very little about the lessons she has here!"

The teacher's eyes widened and her lips puckered into a tiny dot. It was clear that she had some very biting comment circling through her mind, but as an educator herself, she was obvious well-aware that anything said in front of a group of small children was going to be repeated at least a thousand times before the day was done.

"Annie!" the woman yelled sharply over her shoulder. The little girl jolted in her seat and her pen fell to the ground.

"Put your school things away! These people need to speak with you!"

Hearing the teacher speak, one might think Annie was somehow in trouble because of the presence of Corina and her father. The little girl walked in an odd sort of shuffle with her hands clasped together and her eyes on the floor. Even once she herself joined the group, she still kept her eyes on the floor.

"Maybe we could speak out in the hallway?" Corina suggested. It was clear that the little girl was uncomfortable, and being called to the front of the class in front of all her closest friends could not be helping. Of course, if Annie's classmates were like any other children in the world, they would likely rush straight to the window so that they could see the exchange anyway, but at the very least, it might offer Corina a chance to prove that she and her father were not the enemy.

Once again, the matron took on the role of guide and led the tiny group out the classroom. Still, the little girl, Annie, maintained her shuffling walk with her face pointed down towards the floor, but Corina could see her eyes peeking up through her fringed haircut. The matron leaned over to shut the door behind them, and Corina was shocked to see that the classroom of students did not run immediately for the door.

"Annie," the matron knelt down to speak to her, "this is Mr. Payton and his daughter, Corina. They've come here because they want to talk to you."

"Say hello!" the teacher snapped, causing everyone in the group, not just Annie, to jump.

Once the shock faded, the little girl offered a very low, very proper curtsy. "Mr. Payton. Miss Corina."

Although Corina was still somewhat unfamiliar with Muggle greetings, she too offered a low curtsy, which the teacher and the matron both met with patronizing looks. Corina quickly rose back up to her feet, wondering what it was she could have possibly done wrong. Corina's father, however, took a much more practical approach and shook the little girl's hand.

"Miss Deem," he then said to the schoolteacher, "I believe my daughter and I can manage from here. But I believe that you have a classroom full of students who need you."

Instead of offering anymore snide remarks, Miss Deem instead seemed quite glad to return to her classroom, where she could continue on with her day, uninterrupted, with one less child to worry about.

"Is there an empty classroom that we may speak in?" Corina's father asked the matron. "Privately?"

The school matron appeared quiet unsure of how to respond to the request. It might have seemed like an odd request coming from anyone else, but Corina and her father could hardly discuss Wizarding business with the Muggle woman peaking over their shoulders.

But for any reservations the woman might have had about the request, she led the tiny group down the hallway, past more indistinguishable doors, finally stopping at one of them before reaching for her ring of keys.

"Here you are." The matron showed them to the classroom door, another one of the brass keys unlocking the latch. "The students of this classroom are studying vocation at this time of the day, and you will have plenty of _privacy_."

The matron said the word privacy as though it were some disgusting word, or as though Corina's father wanted it so that he might do something awful to the girl. But if that was truly how the woman thought, why did she even seem willing to leave the little girl with them at all?

"Well then, I will leave you to your discussion." The woman spun around on her shined shoes and then moved as though she couldn't get away fast enough. As though she didn't _want_ to bear witness to anything that might happen.

"After you," Corina's father insisted. The little Indian girl appeared shocked, as though she could not believe a white man had insisted on opening the door for her. Maybe little Annie was afraid of his intentions as well.

"Please," Corina heard her father say once again.

Bravely, almost defiantly, the little girl held her head high and stuck her chin out boldly. Corina could not tell if this was an Indian reaction, or something she had picked up from the time she had spent with her white schoolteachers. The little girl was the first to step into the empty classroom with Corina and her father close behind, Corina's father closed the door with his wand, which he had been keeping concealed in his sleeve ever since they had arrive at the Indian boarding school.


	2. Chapter 2 Behind Closed Doors

**Chapter 2**  
**Behind Closed Doors**

The little Indian girl, Annie, made her way to the far end of the classroom and stood against the windows with her shoulders straight and her chin held strong, almost in a matter of someone standing against a firing squad. It was disturbing in its own way. Then again, Corina had already seen plenty in this school today that disturbed her.

"Hello, Annie," Corina's father began, trying to ease the tension on the room. "My name is Mr. Payton. My daughter and I have come here to talk to you about school."

_You already said that,_ Corina thought to herself, though she kept silent, her hands behind her, and once again began tugging at the uncomfortable material of her dress.

The little girl curtseyed once again, almost as though it were a reflex to do so before speaking. "Yes, Mr. Payton. Thank you, Mr. Payton."

Once she stood steady back on her feet, Annie began to pace along the window sill, her tight-looking shoes making a scuffling squeak with her every motion. It was clear that the young child was no more at ease with the two strangers than she had been with her stern teachers, even though Corina had been hoping the girl might open up a bit more once she knew Miss. Deem was not there to hear anything she said. Corina's father tried to give the stiff conversation a more relaxed tone. "How long have you been speaking English, Annie?"

"Three years," the girl replied as she trailed her fingertips along that same window sill. "The people from the school came to my village when I was six, and they brought me back with them."

Corina's father than resorted to a very old and very effective means of communication: flattery. "Well, you speak the language very well."

Annie did not curtsey this time. "I'm pleased you find it so."

Corina stopped pulling at her dress, completely taken aback by the sudden and abrupt rudeness on the Indian girl's part. Back when the teachers were around, the little girl seemed to be doing everything possible to be as stiffly polite as possible. Maybe it _would_ have been a good idea to allow the school matron to stay. It wasn't as though they couldn't _Obliviate_ her afterwards.

"Don't you mean 'thank you'?" Corina prompted.

"No," Annie responded quite assertively. "If I meant 'thank you', I would have said 'thank you'."

Corina was suddenly overcome with an overwhelming desire to box the mouthy child's ears. Whatever manners or forms of civility this school had tried to instill in their students had clearly not taken with Annie Two-Moons. Certainly, the girl had done her best to fake it when she was in the presence of her teachers, who were capable of administering physical discipline, but as soon as they were out of earshot, Annie's true personality took over, and it was clearly not a pleasant one.

Glancing to her left, Corina could see that her father was greatly shocked and confused by the Indian girl's sudden change in demeanor. Although, from his expression, it seemed as though he believed it was somehow _his_ fault; it was as though he had unintentionally done something to offend her. Corina felt sorry for her father. He was the sort of man who always tried his very hardest to see the best in the children who would become his students. This type of attitude, however, always ensured that he would be the victim of many manipulative brats. It was one of the reasons why Corina had recently chosen to start accompanying her father on his travels.

"Learning to speak the white man's words is not something I feel I should be proud of."

Now, Corina was paying much closer attention to the little child's expression. She appeared almost affronted, as though the idea of being a competent speaker of the English language was an insult.

"The people at your school must think you are clever," Corina's father said in a soothing voice. "They chose to bring you here so you could have an education."

"They take all Indian children for these schools," Annie replied tartly. "Being clever has nothing to do with it. You learn English because you have no other choice."

Didn't this girl think they already knew this? Here, Corina's poor father was doing his very best to make this girl feel at ease so he could tell her about the Bell Academy, but this little Indian child seemed to be doing everything possible to keep the two visitors at a distance.

"Children get punished for speaking to one another in their native tongues," the girl continued on without any invitation to do so. "If you don't learn white man's language, you just don't talk at all. A few children here have not spoken in more than a year."

"How are children punished here?" Corina heard her father ask.

"For speaking?" Annie question, as though trying to get clarification. "Writing a hundred lines, washing their mouths out with soap, the switch…"

"You don't have any marks on you."

"I am a very clever girl, just as your father has said," she answered Corina as she began to turn her eyes on those uncomfortable shoes of hers. "But in many ways, I am also a very foolish girl."

Then, without a word of warning, Annie lifted the back hem of her dress to better illustrate exactly what she meant. In her peripheral vision, Corina could see her father's expression of utter horror, but in her clear line of vision, she could see exactly what was causing her father's reaction. Above her stockings, all along her upper legs, her skin was a solid mass of bruises, growing darker as they went further up. The very worst of it, as well as the beginning of old welts, were hidden by her undergarments. The bruises were faint and yellow, so they were clearly old, but there was just such a mass of them, Corina could only imagine what a horrible beating from which they must have come from.

"H-how," Corina's father's stammered, "how did this happen?"

Annie lowered her skirt back down and turned around to face the two visitors. "A Lakota girl who slept in the bed next to mine became very ill," she began. "We begged the teachers to send for a doctor, but none ever came. When the girl could not even get out of bed any longer, I decided to go looking for medicine myself.

"They keep medicine locked up in a cabinet, but I knew where it was. One night, after everyone went to sleep, I snuck out of my dormitory and snuck into the room. They didn't even bother to keep them locked because they didn't think we would know what they were for. I did not know what medicine would help the Lakota, so I just took every bottle I could reach. In the end, it didn't matter; I was caught."

This was the part of the story where the more gruesome details would be told, but Annie's tone and demeanor did not change in the slightest to reflect the situation. She just continued her slow pacing and her even speech as though she were describing the weather or something equally mundane.

"Miss Deem _loves_ her hickory stick," Annie drawled. "She loves it very much indeed. When she decided she was finished, she and the other teachers decided because my disobedience came from being with other children, time away from them would improve my behavior. I was made to sleep in a closet with no light for many days. Most of those days, I was not even allowed out to attend school."

"When I was finally allowed to sleep in the dormitory, a new girl, an Apache, slept in the bed next to mine. No one speaks about the Lakota girl anymore."

Annie must have noticed the looked of pity reflecting back at her, because she then attempted to deflect the feeling away from her.

"Do not waste sorrow on me. I am actually quite fortunate," she assured them. "So many students have been punished so much worse."

Annie fell to her knees and began using her index fingernail to dig between the floorboards. Eventually, she retrieved a tiny white object from between the wood and held it up as though it were some piece of damning evidence.

"See this?" she held the tiny grain up closer for them to see. "It's a grit grain; it's somewhat like rice."

"They make students kneel on them," she explained to the Paytons. "It doesn't hurt very much at first, but eventually, the grains dig into your skin and you start to bleed. Sometimes, they make the students kneel there all day. I think a few students have actually had their skin heal over the grains. They have these bumps all along their knees that stick out more than just an ordinary scar would."

Annie flicked the white grain across the room as though it were a dead insect. "And when they kneel for evening prayers, they are in pain all over again….Even worse than the first time."

Corina began to feel tiny, stinging pains over the skin of her own knees from hearing about the punishment. She couldn't even begin to imagine skin actually growing back over those dozens of tiny grains. The children who were subjected to the punishment must have been forced to kneel for incredibly long periods of time.

Ar her side, Corina could see her father. The deep lines in his forehead and along the corners of his eyes and mouth contorted into a pained expression. He constantly ran his hand over his features, as though trying to smooth out the creases. Corina was quite certain she had never seen her father so distressed. In fact, she was quite convinced she had ever seen her father appear distressed at all. It was certainly disconcerting to say the least. Connor Payton was one of the most lighthearted men people would ever meet. Even when Corina had gotten into trouble as a child, she had never seen her father upset. He was the sort of man who approached every obstacle in life with a calm grace. Though, when confronted with a story the likes of which Annie had just shared, Corina doubted that anyone would have been unaffected.

All the same, it was disturbing for Corina to see _her_ father to be the one who was feeling these things.

But Connor Payton did not appear content with the story as Annie had left it. "What else?" her father probed further. "What else have the teachers done to you and your classmates?"

Annie leaned back against the window sill, her eyes going wide with wary surprise. "I've already told you about the sorts of things they do to the students here," she answered curtly. "What kind of person are you that you are so interested in hearing about children being tortured?"

Any other adult would have been instantly put off by the girl's seemly rude attitude, thinking it might be better to just leave the girl here to live in her misery. But fortunately for this little Indian child, Connor Payton had a plethora of experience in working with bratty children, even worse than Annie. He might not have been able to hold his own against manipulation, but he had a true gift for being able to reach out to those who did not want to share their stories and feelings with him.

Just as it had so many times before, this talent came through for him once again. Annie didn't resist any further, and continued on telling what she had witness. Although, with some of the things that Annie had decided were better to keep to herself, it might have been better if she had remained secretive.

"…I don't like to sleep." Annie's voice finally took on a more solemn tone. "Bad things happen to the students in the night."

It was at that point the room came into a notably potent silence. But again, Annie was either oblivious to the fact or just indifferent. She swirled her skirt in tiny circles as she waited for someone to speak, and this motion did truly expose Annie as a young child who really was not as wise in the ways of the world as one would expect from hearing about her difficult life.

"The…_adults_," Corina's father cringed as he spoke, as though it hurt to even contemplate the words, "take students out of their rooms in the middle of the night?"

"Sometimes," Annie replied, showing she did not quite understand what happened to these students who were taken, but that it couldn't be for anything good. "They won't take children who are already awake, but they'll take students who are still asleep and lead them out of the room while they are still not yet awake. When they come back, they are always alone and they are always crying."

Corina found her eyes shifting downward and her fingers moved to fidget with the material of her dress once again. She did _not_ want to hear what she knew was coming. Why did her father even have to make the girl rake all this up? It was what any truly decent human being would have done, to finding out just what was being done to these children, but all the same, Corina wanted wanted than to be far, far away from this place.

Annie, however, remained glib as ever as she continued to speak. "It has never happened in my room, but I hear the other students talk about it."

Corina shrank further and further into as much of a ball as she could. Things weren't supposed to be like this! The job she and her father had was to find Muggle-born children and invite them to a magical school far, far away, and the children were supposed to be happy and excited and say thank you, thank you, thank you. They weren't supposed to put all these awful thoughts and pictures into her head!

When Corina finally did manage to bring herself to look up at Annie, she could see that the little girl wasn't at all touched by the heavy emotions felt by Corina and her father. In fact, the expression on her face was one of puzzlement. It was almost as though she were confused by all the emotions echoing throughout the room.

"You didn't come here just because you care about children's suffering," Annie noted dryly, "and why do you care so much about _me_?"

By the time Annie finished her question, Corina startled into remembering why they had come here to speak with the little girl in the first place. They had been caught so off guard by Annie's revelation of what had happened and all her stories of what had happened to the other children here, Corina had nearly forgotten to mention a word about the Wizarding world or the Bell Academy, and she could tell that her father had too.

Corina's father looked up from behind his hands with an expression that showed that he had suddenly remembered too. He quickly composed himself and began the speech he had prepared for every child he and his daughter came to visit. "Annie, you are a very special little girl…just the sort that the school that I work for would love to have among its pupils."

Annie groaned and rolled her head in the manner of someone thoroughly annoyed with a hopeless human being.

"You tried that already, remember?" she reminded him in a bored sort of tone. "I told you: no one here is special. They bring all Indian children to schools like these. How is one school different from any other?"

As hard as it was not to instantly hate the little brat for her rude and callous remark, Corina tried her best to see the answer from the little girl's point of view. Annie had probably thought she was being invited to another Indian school just like the one she was already attending.

Of course, Corina's father was quick to disarm that sort of thinking. "Well, Annie, you aren't being invited to this school because of the color of your skin. It is not an Indian school. My daughter, Corina, will be attending this fall as well," he said slowly and carefully. "It's a school for witches; children with…magical talents."

Annie stared up at him.

"Do you understand?" Mr. Payton finally asked her.

Annie didn't shake her head, but it was quite clear from her expression that she certainly did not understand. This was hardly spectacular, though. Corina had seen this reaction dozens of times, in many different forms. Where to take the discussion next was so rehearsed that even Corina knew what was coming.

"Have you ever had anything happen to you when you were angry or scared?" Mr. Payton asked. "Something that you weren't able to explain?"

Annie's gaze drifted up to the ceiling and her lower lip jutted out as she began pondering.

"I don't get hit with the hickory stick anymore," she finally admitted. "After I was allowed out of the closet, Miss Deem tried to hit me with it again, and it just flew out the window like an arrow…through the glass and everything.

"Now she mostly just doesn't bother with me," Annie went on to say. "She never asks me to give an answer in class, and during vocational exercises, she just ignores me."

Still, while describing it, Annie's tone remained flat and almost bored. It was impossible to tell if she truly understood where the conversation was going.

Mr. Payton made sure to make his point very quickly. "The school I work for is the Bell Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and it is my job as a recruiter to go around the country inviting children just like you to attend.

"You actually won't be old enough to attend until you are eleven," Corina's father continued on, "but it is school policy to contact students from non-Wizarding families earlier than those who grew up with wizards."

At the end of the rather long-winded speech, Corina's father looked down to analyze Annie's expression, but there was still very little to go off. Her arms hung loosely at her sides and her eyes were blank. It was a far cry from the wild, nearly manic reactions Corina had come to expect from the Bell recruits that they had visited.

"Oh, I believe I understand," Corina's father said with a twinkle in his eye. "You want some proof, I think."

Without waiting for an answer, Corina's father extracted his hidden wand from his pocket. Taking a quick glance around the room, he quickly found his target: a teacher's desk at the front of the classroom. For the first time since meeting the child, she showed some emotion beside apathy and cynicism. She actually seemed to be behaving like the nine-year-old that she was.

One quick flick of his wand and a wordless spell, however, the desk was suddenly Transfigured into a black and white dairy cow; complete with a bell around it's neckTransfigured into a black and white dairy cow; complete with a bell around its neck.

The little girl jumped slightly and squeaked behind her hands which were covering her mouth. Even this reaction, though, seemed muted compared to all the children Corina had seen while accompanying her father. Her father must have noticed this as well, judging from the expression on his face after he turned the Transfigured desk back into a desk. From traveling with her father all this while, though, Corina had come to know the explanation for this sort of reaction as well.

"You don't have anyone in your family who is a witch or a wizard, do you?" he finally asked Annie, as the back towards her. "No one who could do unusual things the way you can?"

Annie's eyes shifted upward momentarily. "My family, no," she answered. "But I think I remember some people from either my village or another being able to do things like what you did. I understand what you mean."

Corina breathed an internal sign of relief now that she and her father's message had finally been brought across. Maybe Annie did not have what could be called a _complete_ understanding of the concept of the Wizarding world, but she had, at least, a very basic one. And that would certainly be enough for the Paytons to work off.

"Well?" Mr. Payton finally said. "Do you think you would like to go to Bell?"

Annie began to chew on her bottom lip as her eyes flicked slowly over the room. She had to have been thinking about everything she had just shared with the Paytons and about everything she had seen and suffered through while attending school here. A different white man offering a different boarding school couldn't have seemed like much of an escape compared to how other Muggle-born children saw it.

Right then, Corina's father surprised his daughter by reaching out to the Indian child more than she had ever seen him do with any other child he had come to visit. He sank down to his knees so he could meet Annie at her eye level, and brought his voice down to a very low and calming tone.

"It won't be like this place," he said in as sincere a manner as he could possibly manage.

Instead of being comforted, though, Annie took cautious steps back as though the closer vicinity was terrifying to her.

"The teachers aren't allowed to beat the students," Mr. Payton told Annie. "They can't lock you in dark rooms, everybody gets fed every day, and it is, more than anything, a very safe place to be."

Annie looked up into the man's eyes, regarding Corina's father with a great deal of skepticism; in a manner of someone being sold snake oil.

"Annie, I promise you." Corina watched her father put his hands on the little girl's shoulders. "No one will ever hurt you if you go to the Bell Academy. If a teacher does attempt to discipline you the way your teachers have, it's them who will be in trouble, not you."

Finally, Mr. Payton's words seemed to truly interest the little girl. Her face took on an expression of interest and even curiosity. Corina was even certain she saw a bit of a devious nature to it.

"What if they did?" the little girl asked. "What would happen to them?"

"From what you told me, they would be dismissed from the school so fast, their heads would spin. They would never be able to work in another school ever again, knowing that they treated children in such a brutal manner."

Somehow, Annie didn't seem quite satisfied with the answer. Then again, having to be the one who had been forced to live through such punishment, Corina imagined that nothing would have been seen as harsh enough retribution in Annie Two-Moon's mind. Maybe even being exposed to such punishment had left the girl with something of a sadistic nature, leaving her wanting to know more details of the hypothetical punishment for these hypothetical teachers.

But Corina's father either didn't notice this or chose to look past it because he moved on from the subject of discipline towards anyone, and shifted the conversation to a more personal level.

"You spoke of the different tribes the children her come from," he said. "Which one are you from?"

Annie shook the sadistic expression from her face and took on the role of the sweet, little, suffering child, as though she too were playing a role.

"Cheyenne," she answered. "My name isn't really Annie, you know?"

"I thought so," Corina's father replied thoughtfully. "What is your real name then?"

"Eše'heo'ôhnéšese," Annie told him, breathing the difficult sounding name quite naturally. "Will I be able to use my real name if I go to this Bell Academy?"

Corina had a great many doubts about _that_! She could not even begin to imagine how such a name would be spelled on the girl's assignments. There probably wasn't _even_ a way to spell it; Indians didn't even have alphabets, Corina was fairly certain. And if the teachers learned there was an easier name to call her by—such as Annie Two-Moons—they would, of course, leap at the chance to use that instead.

"That certainly seems like a possibility," Corina's father assured Annie otherwise. "You might have to train your teachers a bit in the correct pronunciation, but I'm sure they would eventually take to calling you that."

Annie turned to face Corina's father, her expression becoming somewhat softer than it had been before that moment. It seemed that Connor Payton had truly gained the little girl's trust. "Do you think you would want to go to the Bell Academy when you are old enough?"

Annie Two-Moons nodded slowly, but purposefully. Though, it seemed as if there were something else nagging at her mind.

"I have a sister too. She is fifteen."

When Mr. Payton heard this, his gaze momentarily shifted back to Corina before returning to Annie's face. It was understandable. Fifteen would make Annie's older sister just a little bit younger than Corina was.

"Will she be able to come to the Bell Academy as well?" Annie finished.

This was a difficult part of visiting _any_ Muggle-born child; explaining to them that a close older sibling would not be able to attend their new school with them. The older sibling would feel angry and left out, while the younger would feel even more alone than ever.

Corina watched as her father fielded the question carefully. "If your sister was a witch, she would have been visited already. I'm afraid your sister is very much a Muggle."

Corina worried for a moment that Annie might turn into one of those children who launched into a tremendous tantrum when they received this news. Though, a very small part of her almost wished the little girl would throw a fit, so Corina would have a physical reason for the subconscious dislike she felt for the child.

But instead, Annie held up her hand in an attempt to stop Mr. Payton from going into an unnecessarily long explanation, while the other hand went up to cover her eyes so the Paytons would not see whatever emotions she was feeling.

"It…it's alright," she insisted. "Actually, I don't think you would even be able to find her if she could go."

This puzzled Corina slightly. Were the two girls close or weren't they? Not having any idea of your sibling's whereabouts was not the sign of a close bond.

"They rent older children out as hired help to wealthy families in the city," she told them. "I don't even know if my sister is still here. I don't think I have even seen her in many months."

This time, Corina felt monumentally less shock in hearing this than she had when she had heard everything else Annie had told her. Beatings with sticks, food deprivation, and little children being taken from their rooms in the dead of night made Indian children being used as semi-slave labor was not a very difficult concept to grasp. Were the students even paid, or did the people hire them just pay the school for the students' work as though the hired children were nothing more than rented cattle? The girls who she had seen in the front entryway likely received no money for all the work they did.

For as much as Corina couldn't help but dislike Annie, she couldn't stop herself from feeling pity for all the other Indian children she and her father would leave here.

A knock at the door suddenly brought Annie to stiff attention, almost like a soldier. The door opened just a crack to reveal an older girl with her hair worn up in an unattractive style and a larger, dirtier version of Annie's ugly school uniform. As soon as she saw the two white faces in the room, she became notably more anxious. She had been sent to speak to the Paytons, but she did everything she could to keep from making eye contact with them.

"I'm sorry, but Annie really has missed enough class for one day," she told them, her voice soft and almost scared-sounding. "I was sent here to escort her to vocational exercises."

The girl shut the door, but the Paytons could still see her silhouette from behind the frosted glass window pane in the door. Now that there was an audience once again, Annie Two-Moons went back to playing the part of the ridged, yet polite Indian child. She took a few steps before stopping to face Corina and her father, and curtsied to them once again.

"Mr. Payton, Miss Corina, it was very nice to meet both of you," she said, the hem of her shapeless white dress spreading out like a droopy flower.

And with that, she went back to being that quiet, ridged little girl who they had first seen in the classroom with the dozens of other little Indian children. Then she followed the older girl out into the hallway so she could become one of those Indian school children.


	3. Chapter 3 Righting Supposed Wrongs

Chapter 3  
Righting Supposed Wrongs

Late at night, in the tiny parlor of the inn, Corina was doing her very best to forget all that she had heard at the Indian school that afternoon and reveled in the fact she would never have to return to that miserable place again. Although, the sixteen-year-old soon found out she was quite alone in the relief she was experiencing.

The inn was loosely packed with people; a few of those had been in the parlor with them earlier that evening just after supper had been served. Now, however, Corina and her father had the entire room to themselves. They could have the fire blaze as high as they wanted (Southerners, the both of them, they Paytons could not bear any sort of cold), the inn staff could cater to their needs and their needs alone, and Corina and her father did not have to hush their tones when they spoke with one another.

Corina thanked Merlin for small favors in the fact there was a wizard-run inn just ten miles from the Indian school. It felt wonderfully freeing to be back in her loose-fitting robes. Corina would have thought her father would have felt the same way, but as she watched him sit in his chair in front of the fire, he just seemed anxious and troubled, his mouth hidden by his laced fingers.

"Father, what's wrong?" Corina walked over to her father's side and put her hand gently on his shoulder.

Connor Payton stared into the fire, one hand messaging his temple, the other swirling a tumbler of scotch. His answer was brief. "Annie."

At the end of that statement, Corina cringed away from her father as though he were a snarling dog. She backed away from her father and clumsily took her seat in the opposing armchair, her posture rather stiff for how relaxed she had been mere moments ago.

"Why?" she asked, tucking her stocking feet beneath her. "We did what we were sent here to do. We told her about the school. Now Bell will keep in touch with her so she will be ready to attend when she is eleven."

Corina said these words in the hopes that she could defer whatever it was that her father's thoughts about Annie Two-Moons were going to mean for her, especially if it meant staying in this place any longer than was absolutely necessary.

"In fact, we should be ready to go back home tomorrow or the day after," she finished.

"That's exactly what I'm thinking about," Corina's father finally said. "Home."

Corina did her best to settle herself comfortably for what she knew was going to be the beginning of a very uncomfortable conversation.

After gulping down the last of his scotch, Corina's father rose from his armchair and began pacing in front of the fireplace. "I can't…even imagine taking children away from their parents at six. Annie said some children are even younger when they are taken away."

As much as she disliked where her father's thoughts would likely be leading to, Corina still could not help but absolutely agree with him. She knew she couldn't imagine being taken away from her father at the age of sixteen. If she had been five or six when strangers had come to her home to take her to a school somewhere far away, she didn't know how she would survive. She would have been reduced to a weeping puddle mere moments after she had been taken.

It should have been instinctive to feel pity for the child. On the other hand, Corina certainly didn't want her father harboring such feelings towards Annie Two-Moons. There was just something about the little Indian child, something in her demeanor that made it impossible for Corina to feel such feelings towards her.

"I know, it's sad," Corina replied rather stiffly. She hoped that if she kept her answers as short and clipped as possible, the conversation would just wither and die. However, it would seem that whatever Connor Payton was planning to do, he was going to do without his daughter's encouragement or blessing. There was a certain determination in his expression that Corina knew could not mean anything good.

"I'm going to see if I can get Annie sent back to her parents," he told his daughter. "At least until she's old enough to attend Bell." To end his statement, Corina's father slammed the empty tumble down hard on the fireplace mantel.

Surprised, Corina could only utter one small squeak in reply. Whatever she had thought her father was going to _do about it_, it certainly wasn't this. In one rapid motion, Corina pulled her feet out from beneath her, but she was uncertain of where to jump to the floor or simply stand on the chair so she would have the height advantage for whatever she was going to say.

"You can't do that!" she shouted, her voice echoing in the empty room.

"I can't, can't I?" he asked his daughter. "Who is going to step me?"

"The American government says all Indian children need to go to these schools," Corina reminded her father, still from her rather awkward seated position. "How do you plan to maneuver around that?"

But Corina's father had already figured that part out on his own.

"I'll go over their heads," he told her, beginning to ramble slightly. "I'll have the Department of Magic erase Annie's name from the records, _Obliviate_ her teachers; we do nothing no less extraordinary with other Muggle-borns."

Hearing this sort of plan made Corina cringe even more than just the idea of having anything further to do with Annie Two-Moons.

"It should not be a difficult thing to do in the least," Corina's father began detailing his plan. "All I really have to do is appeal my case to the Department of Magic, say that there is a young witch in need of extraordinary help. They did the same with that orphan girl in New York City last year who was left with her poor aunt and uncle and was forced to work in a factory to help support the family. And Annie's case, I believe, will come off a lot more sympathetic. After that, the Department officials will be doing most of the work in making sure Annie gets back to her village and stays there—"

"Father!" Corina shrieked, nearly falling off her balance. "You _cannot_ meddle with the laws of the Muggle government!"

"There are no laws against it!" he argued. "I know; I made sure. I read them from cover to cover and there is nothing that expressly forbids using magic to go over Muggle laws, especially unjust ones."

"Maybe not officially," Corina answered. "But it goes against everything ethical in terms of wizard-Muggle relations."

Finally, Corina did stand to her feet so she could face her father at least at somewhat eye-level.

"To start with, anything that would take a continuous effort to keep the Muggles in the dark can only be a risk to someone discovering the Wizarding world," Corina said. "Even with all the Memory Charms in the world, there is always the chance that someone who has seen or heard too much will be overlooked. Is all the effort really worth it just for one child? Not to mention…"

Corina listed her arguments on and on, but it all appeared to be falling on deaf ears. It seemed that Corina's father had already made up his mind, and there was nothing that Corina could do to change it.

"Once Annie blends into the wizarding world, who knows how often she'll see her family," Corina's father said purposefully, rubbing his hand over the unshaven part of his face. "She should at least spend the time she has left with her parents."

Defeated, Corina sunk back down into her armchair, realizing that, for once, there was nothing in her power that she could do to change her father's mind.

"At the very least, wait until morning before you do anything," she urged, allowing her head to rest in her hand. "It is late, and there is no use working while everyone who works for the Department of Magic is fast asleep."

But Corina's father just shook his head and made his way over to a writing desk tucked away in the corner of the parlor and took up one of the idle quills. "You can go to bed, if you want, Corina," he told his daughter as he began scribbling away on some piece of parchment. "I have some owls to write."

But Corina did linger in her armchair for a few moments longer, tucking herself into a comfortable little ball, even if her father paid her no mind. For as long as Corina managed to stay awake, he poured over that desk, ink, and parchment, his scribbling taking on a rapid rhythmic pattern that proved almost hypnotic. Corina could not remember bringing herself to sleep, but she did wake up the next morning in her bed in the Paytons' room. She was still dressed in the robes she was wearing the night before.

* * *

True to his word, Corina's father spent the next several days writing letter after letter to anyone he thought could help him in his plight, and was just as fervent and distracted as he had been the night he had begun his mission. Several times in the week that followed, she would see her father meeting people dressed in fine robes in that inn parlor. Sometimes she would sit in the parlor and watch them, hiding behind the cover of one of her schoolbooks. The men would smoke and converse over scotch, discussing Muggle laws and policy and how best to care for a child who would soon be falling under Department authority. When he wasn't meeting with people, he would go back to writing even more letters still.

It had become more than just a mission or a desire to do a good deed. It had become an obsession; something that Connor Payton was losing sleep over and neglecting his own daughter for.

But it wasn't just writing letters and working with Department officials. Corina's father went to that school to see Annie every day, sometimes staying for hours. It was almost as though he we doing everything possible to keep her out of her classes. He would Confound Miss Deem and then he would _Obliviate_ her so she would continue to allow him to take her from his class every morning.

He would bring her books about magic, mostly reading them _to_ her because the little girl's reading was still quite poor, despite the three years she had spent in the Indian school. He said that he was helping her to improve her reading before she was sent to Bell, so she would arrive on par with all the other students, even those who were born into wizarding families. He was also looking into receiving some sort of government stipend so he could purchase books for Annie to take back to the reservation with her.

And once he arrived back at the inn, all Mr. Payton would talk about was Annie; what she had learned that day, what she had said to Corina's father, all the progress she was making under Connor Payton's eye, and what a talented witch he believed she would become. He would never bring Annie to the inn, though. He didn't trust that he would not be seen by some student or school employee who could keep themselves hidden for the rest of the Paytons' visit. So at the very least, Corina herself never had to _see_ the little girl, even if she did have to hear about her every second of every day, which was certainly bad enough.

In many ways, Corina couldn't believe herself. It was selfish to be jealous of a little child who had nothing, the logical part of Corina's brain knew this and repeated this to herself again and again. Corina would always ignore this, however, by rationalizing that it was not jealousy she was feeling towards the little Indian child.

By the end of the week, however, when her father was still showing no signs of getting ready to take them home, Corina decided to put her foot down. She and her father had been in this remote part of Pennsylvania for nearly two weeks now. The school year was fast approaching and Corina, unlike Annie Two-Moons, was actually going to be expected to attending the coming autumn. _She_ needed to get ready.

It had nothing to do with being jealous of Annie Two-Moons. Nothing at all.

And so one night, Corina followed her father into the parlor while he was on one of his nightly letter writing campaigns. Mr. Payton was so absorbed in his work that he didn't even notice his daughter walk into the room, not until Corina finally placed her hand on his shoulder, startling him into attention.

"Corina!" Mr. Payton exclaimed, his quill snapping in his grasp and ink blotches splattering over the parchment. "What are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?"

Corina calmly strolled over to her father's side so he did not have to continue to peer over his shoulder in such an uncomfortable way. "I do, yes. What I wonder is if _you_ know what time it is? I don't believe I have actually seen you sleep ever since we arrived here."

Corina's father rubbed at his eyes, but not before Corina suddenly stopped him, handing him a handkerchief so he did not end up wiping spatter drops of ink all over his face.

"I readily admit it, because it's you, Corina, I didn't have a complete idea of what I was getting into." Mr. Payton used the clean side of the handkerchief to wipe at his brow. "There are so many, many people in the government, and so many, many obscure jobs for them to have. And I must write to every single one of them."

Corina attempted to take her father up by the arms and lead him over to the sofa, but he remained firmly planted in his desk chair, even grasping at the arms of it to keep from being moved. Corina moved over to the sofa alone, but made sure her father could still see her.

"Maybe this is just a bit too ambitious of a project for one man to take on," she remarked, trying to make the comment sound much more offhand than it was.

But the only reaction Mr. Payton had to this was to shake his head like a stubborn child. "Annie has the potential to be a great witch," he defended his current position, "and I'm just doing what little I can to help her get there."

Corina nodded in a stiff manner, trying her best to work on her feet, but Corina's father proved himself to be much more adept at this game than his daughter. He finally pulled himself up from his chair, at last, and made his way over to his daughter.

"There _is_ something I thought you could for me," he said softly, "if you really do want to do something to help ease my work load."

Corina moved up from her reclined position into a straight and stiff posture that seemed to mimic the exact mental imagine of the Indian students she had seen back at the boarding school.

"Do you remember what Annie said about not seeing her sister?" he asked. "I was able to get her to open up a bit about her. Her name is Ešeeva'keso, but she goes by Sofia here. The two girls came to this school together, and she looked after Annie every day until she _mysteriously_ disappeared. Annie misses her immensely; she made that quite clear."

Corina's own wandering mind had some idea of what her father may be about to ask of her, but she was desperately hoping against all hope that he wouldn't.

"Annie said that her older sister was your age," he finally made his point clear. "It stands to reason that you would be someone she could look up to once you get to Bell."

Before she had even fully processed the request, Corina was already shaking her head.

"I'm a sixth-year, Father! I'll have finished my education before Annie even starts!"

"But you said you wanted to apprentice under that Wandwork teacher you adore so much," Mr. Payton argued. "You'll surely come back to Bell to see me at the very least. You would have ample opportunities to see Annie."

But still, Corina continued shaking her head, taking her turn at playing the role of the stubborn child. She was not, was not, _was not_ going to have anything to do with Annie Two-Moons once she left this place for good.

"Please, Corina," he begged, taking his daughter's hands in his, "do this for me."

But all Corina did was yank her hands away from his grasp, shaking her head all the more violently, hands going to her ears so she couldn't hear any more of her father's pleas. She shook her head as her father continued to beg, and has he began to yell, and even after he stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind. Even after she was alone in the dark, Corina shook her head, even though there was no one there to see her and there was no longer a question to stay no to.


	4. Chapter 4 Retribution

**Chapter 4  
Retribution**

Corina knew that she did not have the potential to be a truly evil person. She felt guilt far too easily and it had always come to her rather quickly. This proved to be quite true with all the horrid feelings that had been bubbling inside her stomach ever since her argument with her father. The long walk she had taken in the barren landscape outside of the hotel had done wonders for clearing her head of her short-lived anger, but of course, all that was left were feelings of incredible guilt and dreads the evolved from these previous feelings.

Standing beneath a flickering lamplight just outside the hotel's front door, Corina tried to contemplate what exactly she would say to her father upon returning to their room. Of course, an apology for her behavior would be in order. Her father deserved that much. She might even manage to apologize for her rude intentions towards Annie Two-Moons. But now what she had to do was find a way to still refuse to have anything further to do with the little Indian girl once they had left Pennsylvania.

Anyone else might have seen making a decision to change her mind and agree to help Annie in every way she could have possibly needed as the purest gesture of apology, but it was one that Corina could not force herself to even consider. Her father was certainly free to do whatever he pleased as far as Annie Two-Moons went, but Corina was still completely adamant about never seeing the girl again after she had left this place.

Just how she was going to go about telling her father all of this, however, was something she was struggling to put into words.

It was something that Corina found herself contemplating right up until the very moment she saw reached the door of her hotel suite, less than one step from the doorway.

"Father?" she called quietly from the hallway. "Are you in there?"

The door wasn't locked, which suddenly dawned on Corina as being a good thing, for her father had their only key. And given how deeply her father seemed to be sleeping, there was a good change she might have been locked out in the hallway all night.

The interior was dim, with only embers left glowing in the hearth. None of the lamps inside were lit, and the only light to see by came from the dusky sky outside. There was almost no evidence that he father had even been there since the morning. Even the newspaper was still draped over the arm of one of the armchairs, a group of politicians looking very staunch and official on the front page.

Out of the corner of her eye, through the open door leading to the bedroom, she could see a very distinct lump from underneath the covers, no doubt her father. He had probably chosen to make an early night of it, the fight with his daughter probably having been as draining for him as it had been for Corina.

"Father," Corina called out softly at first, then louder. "Father."

As she slowly approached her father, she felt an increasing feeling of dread with every step she took, if just from her own pride not wanting to suffer the indignity of apologizing. The quilt was pulled up completely over his head, which struck Corina as seeming rather odd. What person really slept that way? It wasn't even that terribly cold that night.

"Father, please wake up. I have something I need to say to you."

Once she got close enough to the bed, she shook at what she believed to be her father's shoulder. As she moved her, Corina noticed her father felt incredibly stiff, and felt no warmth through the blankets. Corina made several attempts to awaken her father, but they were all met with no avail.

Finally, Corina thought she saw the smallest bit of movement, offering what seemed to be proof that her father was finally awake. She then lifted the covers, fully ready to give her rehearsed apology, no matter how fake it might have been.

It was her father, but it was a most terrifying state he was in, one that caused Corina to stumble backwards and grasp at the nearby chair as though the shock would literally throw her off the edge of the earth. It was clear that he was dead; Corina had certainly seen dead bodies before, at funerals for family friends and relative she barely knew. His skin was stretched tight over his skull, his veins bulging out from underneath, swollen with his now-frozen blood. His eyes were gone—and in their place were nothing but black, empty holes opening clear through into his skull.

The muscles in his jaw were stretched visibly tight, and his mouth was open wider than Corina could have thought possible. His arms were folded over his chest in a mock coffin pose, but his fingers were jutted out at odd angles, and again, more bands of muscle were stretched tight beneath his skin that almost seemed melted onto his skeleton.

As for what had caused the small bit of movement that she saw from beneath the covers. Spiders, large black ones, crawled from the empty holes where his eyes had once been. Dozens upon dozens of the arachnids crawled down his cheeks, his neck, his suit, and finally onto the bed sheets and to the open window. Taking turns and waiting in line, the spiders began jumping from the window sill like rats from a sinking ship, as though they didn't want to be somehow blamed for the man's death.

Time, or at least Corina's sense of it, seemed to be suspended. At some point, one of the hotel maids came to clean the room and stumbled upon Corina seated on the floor. Someone strong pulled Corina to her feet and led her out of the bedroom, out into the hallway. That night eventually gave way to morning, to officials trying to get her to answer a thousand different things Corina didn't want to think about because it all had to do with the fact that she didn't have a father anymore.

* * *

_Funeral arrangements should never be made by children as young as I,_ Corina thought to herself. And yet, she forced herself to look at different coffins, pick out the clothing her father would be buried in, what music would be played, and just how she would go about announcing to father's death to everyone who would want to pay their respects.

Out of pity—and possibly even fear of retaliation—the innkeeper allowed Corina to remain in her rented room free of charge while she carried out the planning for her father's funeral and deciding what to do with his affairs. Hotel staff would bring her meals and delivered flowers along with their own personal condolences. They had all known Corina's father in one way or another.

They all said he was a good man and he was taken from the world far too soon.

Various Healers, curse specialists, and Department of Magic officials had been coming and going throughout this whole process. The Healers had, of course, determined that Connor Payton had not died of natural causes, that it had been some sort of curse that had met Mr. Payton with his demise, but that was as far as their expertise went. Afterward, Healers starting coming with specialists who had devoted their entire careers to the study of magical curses and what they could do to the human body. They combed every inch of the room where Mr. Payton died and then they would come for Corina, each time prying for one more new detail she _must have_ forgotten about.

But ,even after all these experts, still no one could figure out just what it was that had killed Corina's father. The Department of Magic offered to pay to have even more specialists sent over from Europe to see if they could offer any help, but Corina turned down their offer. Her father was dead, and knowing the details of how he had suffered before he died…Corina didn't see how that was supposed to bring her any comfort.

There were more department officials still, though, sent from the Office of the Welfare of Underage Wizards, sent to put the affairs in order for the Payton orphan. Corina's mother had died giving birth to her, so it had been just Corina and her father for as long as she could remember. Connor Payton had never even attempted to find a stepmother for Corina. It was as though he had thrown all his energy into his work and raising his daughter.

Their efforts were completely unnecessary, however. Connor Payton had made sure that Corina knew exactly who was to take her in and where she would end up should anything happen to him. Corina's mother had had an older sister, Miriam Andres, who lived in Louisiana who had agreed long ago to raise her sister's child should worse come to worst. Corina had only actually met the woman, a confirmed spinster, five times in her life, but acknowledged that her parents could have made worse plans for her.

Thankfully, she only had a month before the school year began. After she could go back to Bell, she could at least pretend everything was back to normal.

On the day Corina planned to leave the hotel in Pennsylvania for good, she tried to do so as quietly as possible. The last thing she needed was to have any more people tell her 'just how sorry they were'. While she sat in a high backed chair in the parlor, rubbing her temples, though, a man walked up towards her, so silently she didn't even notice him until he was standing right beside her. When Corina finally did see him, though, she let out a sharp yelp, banging the back of her skull against the back of her chair.

"Who are you?" she asked once she was finally startled into alertness.

He was a tall man whose robes fit him like a column, an odd mix of wizard and Muggle fashion, as though when he had woken up, he hadn't been sure of what he was going to be doing with his day. Deep creases lined his brow and the corners of his mouth, and beneath his top hat, Corina could see graying, thinning hair.

"Miss Payton," he greeted with a tip of his hat. "My name is Mr. VanRossem. I am so sorry for your loss."

Corina exhaled deeply, the sound of condolences beginning to sound more like obstinacies in her mind. "What is it that you want?"

"I actually find myself here on official Ministry business," the man admitted. "Nothing to do with your current situation."

The man had a certain knack for saying the exact wrong thing. He also seemed to be aware of this as he realized what he was saying to the grieving daughter as he began to chuckle nervously and fiddle with the buttons of his outer coat. "I'm actually here as something of an escort."

Instead of explaining any further with his words, however, Mr. VanRossem simply made his way to the doors of the parlor, opening them so that Corina could peer through it.

Standing just outside the parlor was Annie Two-Moons, pacing the room in an anxious, yet curious manner. She still wore her unattractive school uniform, but as she had come to the school when she was only six, Corina imagined the girl's old Indian clothes had no hope of fitting her. She was continually shifting on her shoes from front to back and smoothing her skirt for wrinkles that did not exist.

The shock of seeing the Indian girl was what it finally took to force Corina to her feet. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I'm sorry, I though you would have wanted to know" He turned his head to stare at the wandering child. "Your father's petition to the Department of Magic was approved. The Department is stepping in over the heads of the laws that brought Miss Two-Moons to her boarding school, and she is leaving for Montana today. She will be allowed to live with her parents until she is old enough to start attending Bell."

She felt a sudden pain in her chest that her father couldn't be alive to see all his hard work come to fruition.

A small smile came to Mr. VanRossem's face. "Your father was a very good and kind man, to do such a thing for this child. I'm sure it will make all the difference for her. You should be very proud."

For a small moment in time, she did feel something related to Annie Two-Moons that wasn't complete and utter distain. Granted, it had more to do her father than the little Indian girl. The girl was still waiting in the hall, as though she was unsure of what to do with herself. Her expression was blank, even for all her anxious mannerisms.

"When I came to get her from the school today, she insisted I take her to talk to you," the man suddenly said. "She was quite persistent."

Corina turned to him. "Why on earth would she want that?"

Mr. VanRossem shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps since she cannot thank Mr. Payton himself, she would like to thank you instead. And perhaps she wants to express her condolences as well."

Corina offered a sideways glare at the mention of those words, and Mr. VanRossem felt his foot in his mouth once again. But Corina relented; regardless of what feelings of animosity she might feel towards the girl's mannerisms, this was the last time she would ever see Annie. What harm could there be in simply letting her say her piece before she was sent off to Montana.

Paying no more mind to Mr. VanRossem, Corina made her way through the doors and into the hall until she was barely a yard away from the Indian girl. "Annie Two-Moons."

Annie spun around, her short, but thick locks flying and her white skirt resembling the petals of a flower. "Miss Corina!" Annie greeted her with that same low and formal curtsy of hers. "I am so happy I was able to see you."

Corina nodded, keeping her teeth clenched so that no words she might later regret could slip out.

Annie rushed toward her. A normal child might have taken her hands or attempted a hug, but Annie stopped just short of the action, as though she were confused, as though she had no natural instincts towards human behavior.

"I'm leaving today," Annie told her. "They've even brought a carriage to take me. They said it's going to have flying horses, but they'll be charmed so none of the Muggles can see their wings."

Again, Corina nodded. Having seen her fair share of young Muggle-borns in her life, she had seen the wonder at what seemed even the most mundane aspects of wizarding life. Even Annie Two-Moons had a sort of innocence on her expression as she described these things. Corina couldn't help but feel a little lighthearted herself at these descriptions.

"Mr. Payton said I should be with my mother and father before I go to his school." Annie suddenly changed the subject. "Mr. VanRossem from the school says that it's because of him I get to leave the Indian school."

As she said this, Corina was certain she could see just the faintest hint of a smile on the Indian girl's face. "I'm very excited to see my family again, even if the reservation isn't a very nice place. I remember it a little bit, you see. I was born there, though, so I really don't know anything else."

Annie must have realized that she was rambling, and just skipped right to the point. "I'm very happy that I get to leave the Indian school. I really don't care where I have to go now, that I'll be going to another school with white children; I'm still glad I'm going to be able to live with my parents for now."

The look on Annie face seemed about as close to a sense of peace as Corina had seen on the girl. Although she still seemed to have a rather nervous disposition, most of the previous tension she had seen in the girl seemed to have vanished. Before, she had been like a stiff little statue, now she was beginning to look like a real little girl. It was though finally, Corina was able to see what had driven her father to pursue the girl's plight at such a determined level.

Her thinking was soon interrupted by Annie's voice. "Can I see Mr. Payton?"

Corina blinked herself back into attention as she glanced down at the girl who was still waiting for her to give her an answer. "Annie," Corina struggled to keep her voice even, "Mr. Payton died. Don't you remember?" Calling her father 'Mr. Payton' made it all feel more distant.

"I know that," Annie said. "I want to see his body."

The blunt-edged statement physically forced Corina to take a step back. Her arms spear out as though she were afraid of losing her balance on the flat floor.

"_Why?_" she heard slip out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

The little girl leaned in as though she were whispering a secret to a friend in the classroom.

"I want to see how he died," her voice was hushed, almost raspy. "I want to see if what everyone is saying is true."

Corina's eyes went wide, but she didn't move away. "What _is_ everyone saying?"

"I heard it was a really bad curse," Annie told her in an almost sly sort of gossip. "That spiders were crawling out of his eyes."

At this last bit of shocking news, the Indian girl finally pulled away, but she was far from finished speaking. "The old people in my village used to tell stories to scare the children when it was late at night," she went on. "It happened to people who had not yet gotten what they deserved. No one ever told us why what happened to them happened, but they did make sure we knew all the details of what did happen. Their insides are twisted tighter than tight, like a string on an instrument. Even though they are tightened to where the point where they _should_ break, they stay wound tight; even after their skin is gone, their bone stay rigid and contorted."

There was one last thing she had left to say. "Spiders crawled out of people's eyes there too."

And once Corina was thoroughly chilled down to her bone marrow, Annie went back to her previous attitude of childish glee. "But I have to go now," she said. "Mr. VanRossem says it will take a week to get Montana by coach, so we had best leave as soon as possible."

And again, Annie spun around in her flouncy skirt, making her way for the door, a small skip in her step as she left Corina standing dumbfound in the hall.

* * *

As she watched Annie make her way to the same carriage that had brought her there, Corina felt her stomach begin to twist and crawl. The carriage driver, who seemed to have a very progressive view when it came to the Indian people, was introducing Annie to the two horses leading the carriage.

"Don't read too much into it," Mr. VanRossem said to Corina as they stood on the hotel porch. "Annie is an Indian. Those people have strange ideas about death."

Corina crossed her arms tightly across her chest and inhaled the humid air as the two of them carried on a conversation without even looking at each other. The carriage driver was allowing Annie to pet one of the horse's noses. Corina was not convinced.

"Maybe she thinks she needs to say some prayer or ritual over the body. Something she learned or saw when she was in her village."

Corina glared pure venom onto the patch of bare earth her eyes rested on. "I am _not_ letting her see my father's body!"

Mr. VanRossem flinched away, not at all ashamed that he was as frightened as he was by a teenage girl. "I know, I can understand that," he assured her, "but Annie might not. You have to try and see it from her point of view."

The carriage driver reached into his pocket, taking out a handful of sugar cubes for Annie to feed to the horses.

"Indians, they…," Mr. VanRossem struggled to find the right words, "they do all they can to keep their lives separate and different from the white population. They don't believe in keeping magic a secret from the Muggles within their tribes. They wouldn't abandon their Muggle tribesmen, even when the American government sent them all off to those reservations Annie was telling you about."

"I don't know how much longer it will be before the Department of Magic has to step into this whole mess," the Department official mused as his hands went into his pockets. "Those Indian wizarding folk, they use what magic they can to make the life on those reservations a little more bearable, and they see nothing wrong with using magic right in front of those Muggle government runners. Only a matter of time before Obliviators will have to set out their own homesteads within walking distance. Don't know what will have to happen from there."

Mr. VanRossem stared out onto the flat plain as though he were trying to clear through to those far West Indian reservation. "But maybe if Annie is allowed the benefit from an education from one of the best schools in the country, she might have a chance to get out of that kind of day."

If Corina had any sort of concern for Annie Two-Moons at this point, she might have pointed out the parallels between what Mr. VanRossem was saying and what Annie's old Indian school was trying to achieve: turning a savage into something that could potentially be a member of white society. "Annie's not so innocent."

This was finally what it took for Mr. VanRossem to finally turn in Corina's direction. "Excuse me?"

"Annie told me about a story the old grandmas and grandpas used to tell the young ones., where those who did wrong would be punished. Spiders crawl out of their eyes, allegedly," Corina regaled him with every detail. "Does that sound like anything that has happened recently?"

"Just what are you implying, Miss Payton?"

Corina wasn't sure how she could make it any cleaner. She tilted her head in Annie's direction while the girl was giggling as one of the horses shook its head to rid itself of flies.

Mr. VanRossem's eyes went wide once he finally figured out what Corina was implying. "You don't honestly think Annie had anything to do with what happened to your father, do you?" he gaped. "How could that even be possible?"

Corina's head snapped in Mr. VanRossem's direction, unable to believe he could possibly be so dim. "She's a witch!" Corina reminded him.

It wasn't as though the idea of Annie Two-Moons performing a curse was as unreasonable as a buffalo learning to read.

"Corina, even if it was possible that Annie would be able to perform such a curse, what motive could she possibly have? Your father had done nothing but try to help her from the moment they met," he replied to her in a condescending tone. "He got her out of that horrible school; he set the wheels in motion so that Annie could go back to her family."

Corina's mind began to race as she tried to come up with a counter argument, but her brain disappointed her again and again. She would have like to tell the man that Annie had so much as confessed to the crime, but she knew that would never be good enough. As far as any good legal defense would argued, Annie had only shared a quaint little story with the daughter of a man she had grown quite familiar with over the passing weeks. And even with what Corina knew, even she barely believed the nine-year-old Annie would have been capable of doing what had been inflicted on her father.

The young woman was so obsessed with her own thoughts that she didn't even notice Mr. VanRossem bid her farewell and step off the porch. By the time Corina forced herself back into attention, Mr. VanRossem raced back to the carriage, holding tight to his hat as though he wasn't sure how fast he was allowed to move before it would topple off the top of his head. The carriage driver bid his good-bye to Annie Two-Moons before climbing back up onto his perch on the carriage, a wave of his wand lifting the concealment charm on the winged horses. Brilliant chestnut-colored wings spread outward to reveal each tawny feather as the houses whinnied at a frantic pace.

Before stepping into the carriage himself, Mr. VanRossem bent down towards Annie and whispered something in her ear. Annie cringed away from the close proximity, but eventually obliged the man in waving a vigorous good-bye to Corina.

Corina was quite convinced she had never seen the gesture looked more forced or unnatural in her life. She also couldn't quite understand why she herself waved back.


	5. Epilogue Afterthought

**Epilogue  
Afterthought**

During the last week of August, on an especially hot day, Corina was sitting on the front porch of her aunt's house, fanning herself and sipping on sweet tea that her aunt's elves was constantly supplying her with. The industrious little creatures had long since packed her school trunk for her and had sent her aunt's owl of with the letter she had written explaining Corina's current…circumstance to the headmaster, so there very little for her to do until it finally came to leave for Bell.

Corina's aunt lived in utter isolation, even by wizarding standards. There was a village about twenty miles away, but it was made up almost entirely of French wizards; the house-elves even informed her that Corina and her aunt were probably the only English-speakers for most of the Southern French Territories. So that left out taking up time socializing with the local.

As such, Corina became very family with her aunt's home, as well as her surrounding land. The house itself was so old, it had been around when Louisiana was still considered a French colony. If she were eight or nine years young, she might have had fun exploring all the old halls and rooms. But with all the events of the past few weeks, Corina felt she had aged considerably past the age of sixteen even.

This day in particular where Corina found herself at was the sort where it was too hot to do anything but pick a spot and stay there with only one's own thoughts to keep one company, along with the wicker rocking chair, straw-woven fan, and the shade provided by the overhead roof.

Much of day, she had spent with her thought wandering back to Annie Two-Moons, even though she hadn't seen the girl in several weeks. By now, she was out in the Western Territories, probably the only Indian child for miles, as every other was off at one boarding school or another. At this very moment, Annie was probably sitting on some piece of lonely packed earth with only her thoughts to keep her company, much like Corina found herself on her aunt's porch. To wonder if Annie was off somewhere thinking about Corina while Corina was thinking about Annie, around and around and around…it was almost Zen, although Corina barely understood the foreign concept.

By no means was Corina over the death of her father, but time had allowed the pain and shock to dull and allow more rational thinking to enter her mind. She no longer believed Annie had intentionally cast the spell on her father, but, again, also hadn't stopped believing that Annie had had _nothing_ to do with it either. Boredom and little contact with people other than her aunt and the elves left nothing to do but create speculation upon speculation.

Corina took a long, contemplative sip of her sweet teacher and resumed the slow pace of the fan. Long strands of moss dangling from the cypress tree swung lazily back and forth.

The possibility that it could have been an accident was starting to become more and more of a possibility in Corina's mind, though in not quite as innocent of a way as the actual wording of it made it seem. The term 'accident magic' had something of a slanted meaning when it came to incidents involving young children who had not yet gotten their wands. Every incident of accidental magic Corina had heard in stories was veiled in the intentions of the child behind them.

All sorts of emotions could cause incidents of uncontrolled magic: grief, fear, happiness, embarrassment, and especially anger. Anger had a sort of way of causing magic to fester; not become any more powerful than any other incident of magic, but just make the acts themselves much more…gruesome, beyond what any person could believe a mere child was capable of doing. There was no actual scientific evidence behind this belief; it was more of a wives tale, akin to the notion that food or potions made with nasty intentions would make a person horribly ill, no matter what it was. Even Corina's aunt believed this to be true, about brewing and about anger.

She could just imagine Annie laying awake in her bed at night, in that dormitory with the dozens of other Indian girls, just wishing that all her anger could be taken out on _someone_ in the most gruesome way possible. And that every moan of hunger or scream of pain from a beating would only fuel that anger like a beating heart.

Of course, this reasoning only lead to more wondering. Why had it been Connor Payton who had been chosen to suffer when Annie had only known him for a few days, as opposed to the numerous teacher who had been tormenting Annie and the other Indian children for years? Surely teachers who had actually staved the students and beat them with hickory sticks would have made much more attractive targets, the ones who would have been the focus of the most collected rage.

The best explanation for 'why' was simply that her father was just the first white man who had enough access to take out her frustrations. Not to mention the fact that he was the one who made her aware of her abilities in magic. Corina had no real idea if actually knowing about the existence of magic made any difference in a small child's ability to use it, but she could come up with no other explanation.

Yes, Corina knew her father was a good man. She knew he had the purest intentions in everything he did for Annie, that he really did just want her to be with her parents again before she could receive an education that could give her a chance to be more than just some family's maid. But _Annie_ didn't know this. Corina could only imagine all the people in Annie's life who must have told her 'they were just trying to help', and what that 'help' had come to mean in Annie's mind.

In a way, Corina's father was just another white man dictating what was going to happen with Annie's life, wizard or not. Whether the source of Mr. Payton's fate was his close and constant proximity to Annie, or whether the girl had just snapped remained a mystery, and Corina knew the only way she would every receive any kind of answer would be to ask Annie herself, and that was something she was most certainly not willing to do.

Of course, this only lead for Corina to wonder what would happen to all the white teachers that would be at the Bell Academy who would 'only have her well-being in mind'.

But Corina shook her head, trying to let her mind drift off into a haze that the humid heat naturally provided, tired of the constant stream of thoughts swirling in her head. Corina would finish her own education at the Bell Academy long before Annie's had even begun. She took solace in the fact that she would never see Annie Two-Moons again, and whatever it was she chose to grow up into was no longer any concern of hers.


End file.
